Hello, though it should be goodbye
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: This is a Bad Girls songfic. These may be some of Karen's thoughts when she is told of Yvonne's death, if and when that is discovered.


Disclaimer: All Bad Girls characters belong to Shed Productions, not me.   
  
A/N: The words in the asterisks are from Hello, by Evanescence. These might be Karen's thoughts on being told about Yvonne's death, if and when it is discovered. This just begged to be written.   
  
Hello, though it should really be goodbye: a songfic from Karen to Yvonne.   
  
*Playground school bell rings again.   
  
Rainclouds come to play again.*   
  
You were my hope of some kind of return to normality, do you know that, Yvonne? Even when times got dark and all the rain could do was fall, you were always there supporting me and giving me hope. When I got hawled over the coals for Merriman's death, when I was told in no uncertain terms that I was sacked, you were always there for me to run too. Ridiculous really, but there it is. That day I took away the cuffs and gave you a glass of vodka and a cigarette instead, that was the most normal day I've had in a long time. Who would have thought it would be a gesture of simple normal behaviour that would make the top dog of HMP Larkhall put aside the barrier between what you used to call us and them. But the rainclouds came back soon enough, didn't they. The day I sat close to you on your bed, and told you the entire story from beginning to end. The rain fell for you too that day, didn't it. I could see that in your eyes. You thought you'd known the worst of Jim Fenner, but you hadn't. He broke me and now he's broken you. Two of the strongest women he's ever known, and he's broken the pair of us.   
  
*Has no-one told you she's not breathing?   
  
Hello, I'm your mind, giving you someone to talk too.*   
  
But no more will you be there for me, to help me, to make me laugh. Fenner saw to that, didn't he. He stopped you from breathing, quite literally cut off your air supply. I shudder every time I think of you, lying in that cold, evil cell with no-one to hear you scream. Oh god, Yvonne, how could he do that to you. I used to think what he did to me was degrading enough, but leaving you crying and helpless to be buried alive, that has to be the worst thing he's ever done. I can't believe I'll never see you again. When I read in the paper that you'd escaped, I half expected to see you on my doorstep. After all, I had any number of favours to repay. But you didn't. Never again can I expect to share a bottle with you, to hear you giggle with that soft, husky laugh of yours. I'm writing this down, Yvonne, because somehow I've got to say these words to you. I must be going crazy. I can't talk to you, so I guess I'm talking to myself. Is that my way of pretending you're not gone, not dead, not forever lost to me as a friend.   
  
*If I smile and don't believe,   
  
soon I know I'll wake from this dream.*   
  
Your life can't have ended, I need your force of will too much. You kept me going in those last weeks at Larkhall. Your ever present outlook that stood for no shit from anyone. If I keep talking to you like this, maybe you won't have gone. Maybe it'll all be a terrrible, terrible dream. I have to wake from this dream, because I can't go on if it's true. You've never expected anything from me, you've never criticised any of my more obvious mistakes. Even when I told you about how I behaved towards Helen, how I got in to Fenner's bed, how I hadn't been able to save your son. Not ever did you tell me I was wrong, or what I ought to have done. You just accepted me for who I was. You don't know how much I needed that in a friend, Yvonne. You probably saved me from myself and the vodka bottle, though you didn't know it. You can't leave me alone with my thoughts, because I just can't do it on my own any more. I've grown to used to you being there for me, to used to your smile, your laugh and your straight down the line honesty with me.   
  
*Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping.   
  
Hello, I'm still here,   
  
all that's left of yesterday.*   
  
But I do wake from my dream, and it's still all too real. You're dead, they found you two days ago. Two days I've been sat here writing my thoughts, like you'll one day be able to read them. but you won't. They found your poor body, starved of oxygen and left to die the slowest, most painful way Fenner could have thought of. The pain I feel at your going is almost physical. The ache in my heart at losing possibly the most wonderful friend I've ever had, is enormous. My tears start afresh when I realise that you're gone, and I'm still here. I'm still here to feel the pain, to cry the tears, and to regret the good times we never had. There'll always be a place in my heart for you, Yvonne, because never will I forget what you did for me, in simply listening. Am I all that's left of yesterday? Am I all that's left of our one afternoon of normality, our discovered equality in being the worst mothers and having the worst taste in men? One day I'll see you again, Yvonne, one day I swear. Hell, if only so we can haunt Fenner while he rots behind his own bars. I know you're gone, and I know there'll never be any more of our friendship, but that won't stop me looking everywhere for you, looking everywhere for a taste of what might have been. 


End file.
